


Of Mages Locked in Towers

by Kyriadamorte



Series: Colemance - OMLIT verse [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Chantry Bashing, Childhood Trauma, Cole's backstory is its own trigger warning, F/M, Fairytale elements, Human Cole (Dragon Age), Slow To Update, The Fade, eventually, no seriously canon-typical chantry horribleness, spirits and shit, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriadamorte/pseuds/Kyriadamorte
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a mage locked in a tower.  One day, a spirit came to heal the mage's hurt."I know what you're thinking," she said. "But, no - not that one."OR: The one where Cole's the one who forgets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Colemance fic. This is a gift for my sister. Warning: this will be very slow to update. I was going to hold off on publishing anything at all until I'd got the whole thing written, but with this first chapter it seems very unlikely that anything will change (and I'm an attention whore).

Chapter 1

 

Lorelyn and Banor Trevelyan first became acquainted in the muted candlelight of a small Chantry in Ostwick.Their eyes met and their lips smiled while still forming the words of the Chant.Lorelyn has always found the Chant beautiful, but it becomes wondrous beyond compare when the soft baritone of his voice harmonizes with hers.

 

They get married in that very same Chantry and their love shines so brightly between them and the Maker and Andraste and each other.Two years later, they extend this love to their little boy, Talmund, who plays with a small toy sword as soon as he learns to walk.They sing the Chant with him and read him stories of the heroes of old and they know he will grow up to be a good man and maybe even a great one.Six years later, they are blessed with a little girl named Esther who learns to read words before her young mouth can even properly pronounce them.She’s much less rambunctious than Talmund, preferring the window seats in Banor’s study to the training grounds.While she does not make friends as quickly as her brother, when they find her using her new cloak as a bed for an abandoned litter of kittens or catch her smuggling food to the blacksmith’s geriatric wolfhound, they know that their daughter will grow up to be a good woman.The Maker has blessed them, indeed.

 

To repay the Maker for his many blessings and because Lorelyn and Banor take the call to charity very seriously, they decide to add another cause to their list of charitable donations.They discuss at length where their funds should go to and eventually decide to put aside a rather sizable sum to support the mages at their local Circle.Their friends and neighbors don’t particularly understand or support their decision.Many nobles are most concerned with what charity _looks_ good and don't bother finding out what charity actually _does_ the most good.The Trevelyans stand firm in their decision, however.Circle mages have chosen to walk in the Maker's path and it is most unjust that they should sometimes live in more discomfort than apostates on the run.

 

They plan a visit to their local Circle to more appropriately allocate their funds.Neither of them has ever really known any mages, so they can't help but be excited, despite the possible dangers they will face.

 

~

 

The visit is an unmitigated disaster.They arrive a day early which shouldn't be a problem, but it obviously is.The beginning of their tour seems innocuous enough - the hallways are dimly lit and remind Banor more of a prison than a place of sanctuary and learning.He takes it in stride, however - after all, isn’t this why they are here in the first place?

 

They meet a Tranquil - the first either of them have ever seen - and her flat eyes and empty voice are … incredibly unnerving.They’ve heard Tranquility called a mercy their whole lives.However, after five minutes of conversation, they begin to suspect this isn’t true.

 

They ask the mages about their daily life in the Circle. They might as well have asked the same person multiple times; the result would have been the same.The repetition and the way each mage’s eyes dart to the Templars in the room before answering tell the Trevelyans that the answers are ones they’ve been fed in advance.

 

Their tour guide is trying to steer them away from a myriad of skeletons in proverbial closets (and possibly some real ones, too), but doesn't manage to shuffle them out of the library in time to avoid hearing the frantic screams of a young girl echoing from the hallway above them.The pock-marked Templar stutters and prevaricates and dissembles, something about necessary disciplinary action, but what kind of misdemeanor could possibly warrant inflicting that kind of discipline on a child?

 

Not ten minutes later, Banor catches a Templar leering at mage too young to have possibly passed his Harrowing.She smooths her face into a placid mask and gives him a respectful nod, but the damage is done.They make their excuses and do their own bit of dissembling as they prepare to depart.

 

As they leave, they see the remnants of funeral rights in a clearing behind the courtyard and neither of them are brave enough to ask who they were for.

 

~

 

Lorelyn cries the entire carriage ride home, her face pressed firmly into her husband's shoulder.The child's screams follow her all the way back their manor.Empty eyes and monotone voices haunt Banor’s dreams for weeks.They still consider giving money to the Circle, but it’s impossible to ignore the blatant lies they were told throughout their visit.They are good people, but they are not completely naive; there is no guarantee at all that a single cent of Trevelyan coin will go towards improving the living conditions of the mages.

 

They use all of their Chantry connections to try to ascertain how much of what they witnessed in the Ostwick Circle was typical, how possible would it be to fix at least _some_ of what they saw.Their concerns are met with the same non-answers the young templar had given them, albeit much more eloquently.

 

The next time they attend a service at the Chantry, they hug their children a little closer and sing the chant a little quieter.

 

~

 

Esther comes into her magic when she is not quite eight years old.That winter is colder than it usually is in the Marches and her fingers are starting to go numb when a rush of flame erupts from both her palms.They manage to put out the fire before it does much damage to the library.They don’t manage to save the book she was reading.

 

Their first instinct is the one that has been drilled into them since birth, but their visit to the Ostwick Circle is still fresh in their minds, though it happened years ago, and they put it off a day.A day wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

 

That night, Lorelyn has a nightmare of her daughter screaming and screaming, echoing off the walls of dimly-lit, narrow hallways with no windows.Banor wakes from his own dream of Esther looking at him with empty eyes and speaking to him with an empty voice before she cracks right down the middle, caving in on herself.They aren’t sure which one is worse.

 

They know it’s their duty to turn her over to the Templars - for her own protection and the protection of others…but neither of them can pen the words that would take their daughter away from them forever.

 

This goes on for over a week.All the while, Esther is kept to her rooms and only the most trusted of servants allowed access.They don’t realize how long it’s gone on until Lady Forthwith inquires after their daughter’s health.“We hear she’s been dreadfully ill, poor thing.”

 

“Yes.The healers say she must be kept in complete isolation.”The lie escapes Lorelyn’s lips without a moment’s hesitation.“Her body is too weak to fight off even the smallest illness.”

 

“Oh my!Do they know how long it will go on for?”  
  
“They are unsure,” Banor adds, standing by his wife’s side with the same ferocity that he’s shown since they said their vows.“It might be for the rest of her life.”

 

And that, apparently, is that.

 

~

 

The Trevelyans are kind and generous employers because it is the will of the Maker and the right thing to do, but it is not without its benefits.They have the loyalty of many of their servants to a degree unheard of throughout the entirety of the Free Marches.So, when they ask a few of their most trusted employees to discreetly search for a Templar to guard and protect Esther, they know that the task will be done quickly, quietly and thoroughly.

 

Their sources come back with a short list of names, but only a few of them are acceptable.They won't have a drunk or a pervert within the walls of the manor, let alone constantly supervising their only daughter.

 

They find Ser Davren in a dark and smoke-filled tavern, the kind that neither of them have ever been in before - not even in their youth.According to their butcher, Fanwyn, he had been dismissed from the Templar order for threatening to speak out publicly against his Knight Captain.The sniveling wretch of a man was such a slap in the face of everything the Templar Order was supposed to be that it made Lorelyn ill to think of it.According to Fanwyn's...associates, the man had been charging admission to the local perverts to watch as the youngest group of elven mages took their baths.However, this sniveling wretch also happened to be the third son of a rather influential lord, so Ser Davren was quickly expelled from the order and discredited so that any claim he might make would be dismissed out of hand.

 

Ser Davren was not yet forty, but already the hair on his head and beard was as much grey as not.The bags under his eyes and shaking hands betray that he hasn't had lyrium for over a week, at least.The state of his clothes betray that he probably hasn't washed in as long either.

 

They should probably dance around the subject longer than they do, but neither Banor nor Lorelyn have ever had much use for deception until now.After they explain what his duties would be and what wages he could expect, he's silent for a long time, staring at the ale in front of him.They think he's going to refuse, that he's going to threaten to turn them in, when he turns his head to them and asks them if they plan on approaching any other ex-Templars.They answer in the affirmative and give the (terribly short) list of names.He clenches his jaw and returns his face gaze to his ale.

 

"Aye, then.I'll watch your little bird."

 

They're incredibly relieved, but he brushes off their thanks and downs the rest of his drink in one gulp.

 

~

 

Esther’s chambers are moved to an old grain tower in the northwestern corner of the manor that they have hastily renovated to make habitable.The official reason for this change is quarantine, but Esther knows it’s actually so that she’s further away if she becomes possessed or her magic goes out of control or something.

 

Her mother and father do their best to make it look cozy and at first it’s all very exciting - like an adventure straight out of one of her books - but the novelty quickly wears off.Her parents visit her at least every other day, but she notices they don’t sit as close to her as they used to.Her brother only comes maybe once a week and he doesn’t lift her up or tickle her anymore.Her parents say it’s because he’s very busy with schoolwork and training with the quartermaster.She suspects this isn’t true.

 

Most of the time she’s all alone except for the gruff middle aged man who their parents seem to have hired to serve as nanny just as much as templar.He obviously has more training with the one than he does with the other, but he does alright.He lets the kittens into the tower and asks her about the books she’s reading and helps her untangle yarn when she’s knitting.

 

She spends most of her days reading, more so even than before.Novels and epics and histories and even a few books on magical theory, though not enough to attract attention (and, therefore, probably not enough to really help) and even Esther knows that there are some things that can’t simply be learned from a book and apparently controlling magic is one of them. 

 

She loses her favorite scarf, a gift from her mother, before Ser Devran manages to drain her magic for the fifth time this month.She falls to her knees and cries against Ser Devran’s faded tunic as he rocks her gently.She hates the way it feels when he suppresses her magic, but she would hate it more if she accidentally hurt him or anyone else. 

 

“It’s all right, little bird,” he murmurs into her hair, still mussed from trying to put out the blaze.“It’s not your fault; I’ve got you.”

 

He does his best, but it’s not always enough.She doesn’t need a gaggle of friends the same way her brother does. 

 

At least, she didn’t. 

 

It would be nice, though, to have at least _one._

 

_~_

 

Her new friend has long auburn hair and lets Esther braid it and weave flowers into it.They catch tadpoles in a cool, clear stream and explore caves and play in treehouses.Her friend has a doll that looks just like the ones she’d seen in town.She had asked Mama if she could have it for her birthday, but she’s fairly certain Mama forgot.It’s alright, though, because her friend lets her play with hers as much as she wants.

 

Her friend also likes playing all of the games that Esther wants to play, too.Not even Talmund was ever so accommodating. She feels a little guilty that she’s been in charge of most of their playtime so far so she asks what her friend would like to play.

 

“Whatever you want to play,” her friend responds.

 

“But it’s your turn,” Esther insists.

 

Her friend cocks her head.

 

“What are your favorite games to play,” she asks. “When it’s just you.”

 

“I…don’t understand.I don’t play when it’s just me.”

 

“What do you do when it’s just you?”

 

“I-I-“

 

Her friend struggles to explain.Her form flickers at the edges, bits of teal peeping through.

 

“Are you alright?” Esther asks.

 

“I-I’m sorry.I thought this form would help-“

 

The mirage fades away and a translucent teal figure takes its place.

 

“It did, don’t worry!” Esther reassures the figure.

 

She thinks for a moment. “Is that what you like doing?Playing pretend?”

 

The figure sways back and forth for a while, considering.“Yes.I think so.” 

 

“I like to help,” it adds after a while, almost shyly.

 

“Oh?Who?What kind of help?” Esther asks, wondering if it is like when Mama and Papa visit the houses of the poor on feast days.That had been its own kind of fun.

 

“Everybody.All kinds.I’m sorry I couldn’t do better this time; I just wanted to give you a friend.”

 

“You don’t have to dress up and play pretend to do that.Well,” Esther amends, “unless you want to.You could be my friend just like this.”

 

“I could?”

 

The figure doesn’t really have a face, but Esther thinks it might be happy or excited at this.

 

“My name is Esther.What’s your name?”

 

“Compassion.”

 

~

 

Sometimes, when she dreams, Compassion takes the form of the little girl, but other times it's a butterfly and one time it was a cat and sometimes it is just itself.Mostly they play but sometimes they talk and Compassion helps chase away the dark feelings that come when Esther thinks too hard about her parents or her brother or her magic or herself. 

 

She lets it slip into her sometimes, even when she is awake and it shows her how to rein in her magic and keep it beneath her skin.It guides her hands as she weaves magic through the delicate bones in a bird’s left wing and she smiles and it smiles within her as the bird happily flaps away.It shows her other things, too, and when she pulls a bouquet of flowers through the fade and presents them to Ser Davren she tells him she read about it in a book, which isn't _actually_ a lie because she did, but with the echo of Compassion still thrumming beneath her fingers it kind of feels like it is.He smiles and thanks her and spends the afternoon weaving them into a crown that she wears like a princess.Ser Davren doesn’t need to suppress her magic anymore and when Compassion teaches her to fade-step around the tower Ser Davren just laughs and they make a game of it and her magic isn’t scary anymore; it’s _fun_ and wonderful.

 

It’s not even so bad the first time a demon tries to possess her (although, at least part of that is because she’s not really aware of what’s happening at the time).

 

_Let me in,_ it whispers. _Let me in and you can be free from this place.You can hug your parents again and ride your pony and travel to all of the lands you’ve only read of in your books._

 

That sounds a bit curious because even Compassion said that it couldn’t get her out without either hurting her family or possibly hurting her.Or both.She’s asking this newcomer for more information when Compassion appears behind her, putting its translucent hand (well, _appendage_ ) protectively on her shoulder and pulling her back slightly.

 

“Desire, she does not really want what you are offering,” it says, firmly.

 

Desire looks like it’s about to argue, but Compassion glows more brightly than it ever has before and grows to a rather impressive height.It’s form becomes even less-person-like than normal and it wraps itself all around her.An embrace, a shield.

 

Afterwards, Compassion explains to her gently that Desire would have slipped inside her and latched on, would have taken her form and not given it back.She doesn’t want to be rude, but she can’t help but ask, “But why?And how is that different from what we do?”

 

Compassion is silent for a while, shrinking slowly back into its original size and swaying back and forth like it does when it’s thinking.

 

“Before,” it says slowly, softly, “they wanted to help, too…but they’ve forgotten how.The taste of reality and the pull of solid ground when they can’t have either makes them mad, makes them frantic…and then, when they have it, they realize there’s nothing left to temper the harshness of it…”Compassion flounders a bit and Esther’s not sure if she _quite_ understands, but she feels a little bad for them anyway.

 

The next time she’s approached by a spirit (demon?), she’s quick to recognize it as Pride.It tells her she’s so much smarter than her family, that she should be the heir, not Talmund, that if she only let it in, she could be free to take her rightful place.She tells it no thank you, but offers to show it the knitting projects she’s most proud of.It’s a bit wrong-footed by this, but seems intrigued anyway.It doesn’t remember to try to fight her and she wakes up fairly well-rested.

 

~

 

Esther teaches Compassion things sometimes, too.She shows it how to sew and how to knit and it’s delighted with the idea of creating helpful things from yarn and string.She reads it stories in the evenings when Ser Davren has left to sleep in his own chambers and it becomes enamored with the characters, asking questions and spinning tails about them and she asks if it knows that they aren’t real.

 

“They’re real for you, real enough to leave a footprint.You cry when they hurt and smile when they find love.”

 

She supposes that makes its own sort of sense.

 

She reads it poetry from the anthology her parents get her for her eleventh birthday.It seems to like the works of Gwendolyne Granger the best and starts incorporating her style into its own speech.The alliteration and triplets make Esther smile every time she hears them.Even though it can’t really _smile_ in its natural state, she likes to think that she makes it happy sometimes, too.

 

~

 

It doesn’t spend all its time with her.It follows the hurts and sometimes that means it’s away for weeks at a time, but it always comes back.

 

It seems confused by this when she points it out.

 

“I- normally, I make them forget, make us both forget so we can wash clean.”It’s swaying again, curious, confused and concerned.

 

Well.That explains some things.

 

“Are you going to make me forget?” She hopes not, but if Compassion needs to, if it’s hurting it not to….

 

“No,” it says, firmly, after a while.There’s a hint of…something (defiance?) and it flickers at the edges at these words.

 

She smiles and hugs it and opens the Antivan novel that arrived that morning.She does the voices and Compassion hums appreciatively. 

 

~

 

One evening, when she’s fourteen years old, Compassion comes to her, slipping beneath her skin and wrapping her in its warm embrace, but this time it feels like it’s holding her a little tighter, that it might actually need this more than she does.She can feel the worrying, the tug of a hurt that needs to be soothed.It’s far away, but so loud - piercing through space, through the Veil itself.

 

“There’s a boy - cold, crying, clawing at stone walls.”

 

The room flickers around her eyes, grows darker, emptier colder.

 

They take a deep breath against the dark tug, against the despair of that other place, that other tower.She focuses on the soft, colorful patches of her quilt beneath her fingers, her mother’s latest gift, and wills Compassion to feel it, too.

 

“I will help him,” it says, mournful and hopeful all at once.

 

“Yes,” she says.It doesn’t need her permission, but it feels like it’s asking it all the same.

 

“I’ll be back soon,” it says, a reassurance it’s recently taken to making.

 

They take a few more breaths together before Compassion slips out of her and drifts back beyond the Veil and far away.

 

 

~

 

 

She doesn’t see it again for eight years.

 

 

 


	2. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update - no new chapter (boo!!), but access to new content (yay!!).

Hi all!

 

Bad news - this isn't a new chapter.

 

Good news - I've started a separate work in this series where I'm going to house excerpts and vignettes from future chapters.  If you don't want to be spoiled and want to read it all in order, feel free to ignore.  If you want more Colemance content and you don't care how, feel free to subscribe to that work ("Of stories yet untold") or this series generally.  Hopefully this will help you by giving you more content and help ME by not getting stuck on writing chapters in order, which tends to be my biggest hang up.

 

Thanks so much for your patience - I hope you like some of the stuff that will be coming out.


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